


Silver Bells

by allthegoodnamesaretakendammit



Series: Precious [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Age Not Specified, Blood Drinking, Cuddling, D/s themes, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fluff, Genderswap, Littering, Pompous Pep, Rule 63, Sex Pollen, always-a-girl Danny, aphrodisiac, but I imagine that Danny is 19 here, but the sex pollen definitely takes away some measure of their agency, christmas fic dubcon, enthusiastic enjoyable sex with ur arch-nemesis on christmas day, everyone enjoys themselves immensely, the ultimate christmas truce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-15 21:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12328962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthegoodnamesaretakendammit/pseuds/allthegoodnamesaretakendammit
Summary: “C’mere,” she finds herself saying, making grabby hands at him. “I need to—I want to—“ He must be a terrible listener because he takes another big step backwards, frowning deeply. “Hey, wait, where are you going? Don’t go. Stay, stay here. With me.”





	Silver Bells

Danny doesn’t stop and smell the roses very often, but Frostbite insists: _it only blooms once every three hundred years_ and _everyone else will be busy celebrating the Christmas Truce this year_ and _this might be your only chance to witness it without a crowd._ So off to the cloud forest Danny goes, whizzing over the treetops and getting a free facial from the steam given off by what must be thirty different hot springs scattered throughout the thick, chirping greenery.

 

It’s over the heart of the forest that she feels it--the pulse of a living, ghostly thing that makes cool mist pour from her mouth. She lets her ghost-sense draw her down to a cluster of sparklingly clear hot springs next to an open green meadow with a single, vibrant speck of silver in it. The Alda Flower is so obviously, transparently what it is: a proud silver-blue, easily twice the size of any normal flower Danny has ever seen. Its ruffled, silky-looking petals are beginning to peel back, and it sits on its thick stalk in the very center of the meadow. Danny’s feet touch the forest floor just as a great cloud of steam passes through the clearing, shrouding her in warm white nothing. When the wind blows it south, Danny takes a step closer to the slowly unfurling flower. That is, of course, the very second that Vlad Plasmius chooses to emerge from between the trees. His red eyes glow right through the lingering cloud cover and he smirks at her, holding what looks like a travel case full of stoppered vials. Because they have a matching sense of dramatic timing, they both open their mouths to fire off insults—

 

And at that moment, the bud bursts into bloom. Its centermost petals suddenly spring back as if they can’t contain the sheer amount of pollen inside of them and a new cloud of shimmering white spores erupts over them both, settling into their hair and clothes within seconds. It’s like snow made from stars that simply refuses to melt. Danny cups some of the pollen in her hand, admiring the ethereal light it gives off, a coat of it now sitting half an inch thick on the ground. Vlad busies himself with scooping up as much of the stuff as he can in vial after vial.

 

He puts a cork in the last one and turns to her with his usual smirk, but she’s distracted by a sudden pang of hunger in her stomach accompanied by heat spreading over her, as if a desert wind had gusted by. To be clear: there _are_ no truly hot winds in the Ghost Zone. Also, she had eaten lunch just an hour ago. And Danny—Danny can't stop looking at him. He's so... blue.

 

It takes her a full thirty seconds to realize that neither of them are saying anything. They’re just standing there like statues with what’s left of the flower between them--an upright stem wreathed in wilted petals, teetering at the epicenter of the blast zone.

 

Another surge of warmth breaks over her, conversely sending a strange shiver down her spine and making her nipples tighten uncomfortably quick under her suit. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously, wondering what the fuck is even happening to her body right now. Danny glances over at Vlad, sure that he’s baffled by her weirdness, but he’s not. His eyes are closed now and his fists are clenched tight at his sides as he takes forcibly slow breaths. Well, _that’s_ not worrying at all. She takes a step closer and begins to ask, “Are you o—?” She just doesn’t have it in her to finish her sentence when his eyes fly open and he looks down at her open-mouthed, eyes blazingly red. Is it just her or do his fangs seem extra-pointy today? Half out of her mind, she murmurs words straight from her memory: "My, what big teeth you have."

 

“Why thank you, my dear,” he replies, raising an eyebrow at her and taking a step back. Geez, this guy's got some sharp eyebrows. She wants to trace them with her fingertips; she wants to run her lips along them until Vlad pins her down and kisses her for real. _Seriously,_ what is _wrong_ with her today?

 

“C’mere,” she finds herself saying, making grabby hands at him. “I need to—I want to—“ He must be a terrible listener because he takes another big step backwards, frowning deeply. “Hey, wait, where are you going? Don’t go. Stay, stay here. With me,” she babbles, feeling her knees get weirdly bendy but refusing to sit down. But the babbling works, since he takes three paces forward. Judging by his expression, though, he’s only done it so that he can examine her pupil dilation and breathing rate. Nerd. Scheming, beefy, long-fanged nerd…

 

“Come closer,” she tells him breathlessly, knowing that if she makes a move toward him, she’ll spook him away again. She realizes, suddenly, that he looks just as desperate as she feels. The renewed red sizzling in his eyes, his forked tongue fighting to escape his clenched teeth. And bulging out between his legs—

 

“Oh. Oh wow.” He straight-up hisses at her and by God it makes her moan because it’s sexy and it’s also the exact sound that bacon makes when it hits a hot frying pan. Danny wants to march over there and get a taste.

 

Instead, she doubles over so that she doesn’t have to look at him anymore and grabs at her own hair, tousling her silver pixie cut instantly. She yanks on it a little, hoping that the pain will distract her from the second pulse now thundering between her thighs. A hand lays over one of hers, warm and enormous and tugging her hand away from her own hair as Vlad says, “Don’t. Don’t hurt yourself.” She looks up at him and begins to straighten up, if only to get closer to all of that _blue._ Maybe he’ll taste like a slushie or fresh blueberries or blue corn chips...

 

“What,” she says, hardly even caring to note that it’s a whimper. “What happened with that flower? It’s not—it’s not supposed to _do_ anything—”

 

“It’s us,” Vlad growls, sounding aggrieved. “We are the variable. Half-ghosts interacting with a rare ectoplasmic life form.”

 

“Oh noooo,” she moans, at least halfway because she can feel her core ache again at the sound of him growling.

 

“Lowered inhibitions, our ghost forms imbued with human sensations, sudden onset of arousal... For ghosts, it’s a pretty flower to observe in bloom. For us, it would seem, it’s an aphrodisiac.”

 

“I actually know what that word means,” she says, amazed at herself. With that, she worms her arms around his sides and presses herself against him: face to his chest, nearly groin to groin, too-tight nipples smooshed up against him too. He’s burning up right in front of her and she loves it, wiggles herself even closer, clasps her fingers together behind his back so that he can’t get away. He doesn’t even try to. He just rests a hand low on her back and she would swear she feels that sensation shearing straight through her--that she feels it all over, the act of him touching her gently, demanding nothing from her even though she knows his brain’s just got to be oozy and broken by now. Hers definitely is.

 

“You feel really good,” she tells him. Because he does. He feels like a building you take refuge from the wind and rain in. He feels like the railing that sci-fi space explorers always cling to when someone opens the vacuum-sealed door to outer space. Everything sucked out into the void unless you hold on for dear life.

 

“I wanna know what you taste like,” Danny mumbles into his chest. She can _feel_ the growl he makes when she says that, rumbling deep in his chest and reverberating through her. It’s like sitting on top of a washing machine. “Mmmm, do that again.”

 

“You maddening little--” He doesn’t even finish his sentence. Instead, his travel case hits the ground with a thump as his other hand comes up to cup the back of her head, messing up her hair even more as he threads his fingers through it. They stand like that for awhile, wound around each other as low hanging clouds mist over them and leave again, dampen their hair and leave again, seep into their clothes and leave again. It’s like upright cuddling with a boner wedged between them and it’s _awesome._ She wants more, of course she does, but this is so novel, so freaking special on its own.

 

So she plays it safe and asks him thoughtfully, “Are you going to run away if I try to kiss you?”

 

Honesty begets honesty. His chin brushes against the top of her head as he confesses, “I believe I lost the willpower to do that several minutes ago.”

 

“Works for me,” she says, tipping her head back, gratified to see him already leaning down with his eyes half-lidded. She meets him halfway and their lips connect with something like magic under the skin--making her mouth feel so incredibly sensitive, making every puff of his breath against her skin feel like poetry. She’s going crazy, is what she’s saying. But at least she’s not alone. Because Vlad kisses her like he’s just never going to stop, their lips coming together time after time as he uses the hand on her back to dip her just a little. The guy’s a romantic, for sure. The level of drama you'd usually suspect from a guy in a cape.

 

But hey, since it’s a free-for-all, she grabs at his back and tries to feel up all of his muscles and sinew and stuff. There’s so much of him to cop a feel of, since he’s so tall. She gets a little sidetracked by the abrasive texture of his goatee rubbing against her chin, his smile against her smile.

 

That’s about when he decides to use his tongue.

 

Her knees give out, so she stays upright by digging her fingers harder into the back of Vlad’s suit, floating a bit to stay grounded against him. On the plus side, she finally finds out what he tastes like. The flavor definitely leans more towards blue corn chips. Salty, earthy, mild.

 

His tongue is long and red and its forked end flickers over every soft, sensitive spot in her mouth--of which there are surprisingly many--and she slumps in his arms and does her darndest to make him feel good, too. It’s kind of wonderful, actually. There’s no room to question his agenda and no need to think of witty jabs or possible escape routes. All she has to do is gather enough brain cells to pull away and tell him what’s on her mind: “Please touch me.”

 

Apparently, Vlad is extremely amenable to begging. Because, with no hesitation whatsoever, he reaches down and cups her, grinding his palm over her clit. She arches for it, panting, “Ah, ah, _ah,_ ” because the pressure is immaculately blunted through three different layers of clothing. She sounds like a cat, or a monkey, or a-- _some_ kind of animal. The kind that gets loud on purpose, although really, she’s only yowling at the top of her lungs because it feels like she’s lost the ability to _not_ do that.

 

“I’m going to kiss you til you’re blue in the face,” she tells him. Then she tackles him to the ground. But mid-tackle, he twists them and the breath whooshes out of her as she hits the ground flat on her back, pollen flying up all around them.

 

“You’re lovely, my dear,” he says as he kisses her on the cheek, kneeling between her legs. “So very, very lovely...”

 

The soft glow from the pollen lights Vlad’s face up from every angle as he leans close enough to kiss her again. His chest bears down against hers and she inhales sharply because her nipples aren’t perky—they are full-tilt _perked._ The pressure on them feels immense and her whole body is throbbing with it, gasping uselessly into his mouth and letting out a strangled noise that has him pulling back, looking genuinely concerned for her well-being.

 

Danny tears off her gloves and sinks her fingers into his hair, dragging him back into a kiss with not enough breath and way too much tongue, but it’s perfect. _He’_ s perfect—how had she never noticed before? He’s got lots of coarse dark hair and he’s so _firm_ and he wants her so bad. She can feel it, feel it against her thigh and in how feverishly he’s kissing her and in the way he’d kept saying _lovely,_ like once wasn’t enough to fully describe it. She gets that feeling again: that Vlad is someone she needs to cling to, to take shelter in. Safe, necessary, steady. So when that last, long kiss is over, she hugs him close to her again. She tucks her chin over his shoulder as he finally rests his full weight over her, his erection stiffer than ever against her leg.

 

As if annoyed that she’d forgotten about it, her stomach gives another hunger-pang. “Are you hungry right now? I’m super hungry right now.”

 

“I’m quite peckish, yes,” he says into the grass.

 

“I could really go for a burger and fries. Or, ughhh, popcorn. I would kill for some buttered popcorn.”

 

“What I’d give for some cheese curds. Or, better yet—“ He cuts himself off and she glances over at him, only to find him staring fixedly at her neck.

 

“May I...? I need to—” He cuts himself off, burying his face in her neck and, to all appearances, having the time of his life.

 

Vlad’s fangs aren’t just for show. If she hadn’t known it before, she definitely knows it by the time he’s left three hickies on her neck that feel red and achey, as sharp as perfection. She pants for it, clutching the back of his head again as he leaves mark after mark. Soon enough, her hips rise and bump right into something iron-hot, hard as steel. The perfect shape for working over her lips, making her sweat and moan as she rubs herself up on it and he growls, grinding right back down onto her. He places another searing kiss under her jaw and scrapes two puffy red lines on her throat as his fangs linger and drag downward. Danny cries out, holding him closer, telling him fervently, “Take it. Take it, I want you to have it—” There is a surprisingly small twin pinch when his fangs sink in. That sensation is swallowed by the new swathe of heat; it starts where his mouth has latched on and spreads to the top of her head to the tips of her curling toes. She suspects it would be a very overwhelming feeling if she weren’t already panting, if there wasn’t already a tight pulsing in her core that is verging on painful.

 

He gives a particularly hard suck and, through the spine-tingling pleasure, a distinct sense of _wet_ floods her panties. It makes the glide that much smoother on Vlad’s next thrust. He must be able to feel it, too, because he moans into her: into her neck, into her blood itself. When his teeth inch their way back out of her neck, Vlad takes his sweet time lapping up any leftover mess. There is an odd prickling sensation there and when Danny cranes her head all the way back, she can just barely see her skin rapidly closing up where he’d bitten her. “Neat,” she comments, completely out of breath.

 

He hums, still skimming his lips over the pink and red skin, occasionally giving it soft licks. Danny’s a bit light-headed with it, honestly. She has a distant concern for her blood sugar when her stomach gurgles its complaint again. Without moving an inch away from her neck, Vlad reaches into the pouch on his belt and produces a peanut butter energy bar. Danny tears it open and tells him fervently through that glorious first bite: “You are the best. You are a kind, handsome man and if I ever say anything else, then I’m lying.” Vlad chuckles into her skin and gives a powerful thrust against her. Sufficiently motivated, she crams the rest of the bar into her mouth and tosses the wrapper aside, chewing and swallowing quickly.

 

She tips her head back and opens her legs wider so that he can nudge right up against her clit. High, whining sounds escape her then, as he moves back and forth over it, rubbing them together just right. He chuckles in her ear and says lowly, “Enjoying yourself?”

 

It comes pouring out of her mouth, as inevitable as any truth: "Yes, _Daddy--_ "

 

Vlad rears back, but his hips don’t stop. And the hips don’t lie, Danny thinks deliriously as she wallows in shame. Then he says ruefully, "It's the hair, isn't it."

 

"Uhhhh..."

 

"Hmph. Call me what you wish. I'll have you know I'd make an excellent Daddy in every sense of the word."

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says in relief and agreement and a bunch of other things that she loses the capacity to name when he rolls his hips again and starts trying to find the zipper to her suit. She tugs it down that first inch to help the poor guy out and from there, he unzips the front of her jumpsuit down to her bellybutton, enough for him to get at her breasts and the plain white bra holding them in place. He cups one breast over her bra, which does absolutely nothing to hide just how stiff her nipples are. Still, she sighs at the touch and when he kneads it a little, it teases a soft sound out of her. His hips don’t slow as he moves to cradle them in both broad palms and squeezes gently. “Yes, yes. Daddy, _yes--_ ”

 

He takes that as his cue to turn her bra intangible and tosses it aside, where it promptly camouflages itself in pale pollen. She’s felt self-conscious many times before about how small her areolas are, how much her nipples poke out, but there’s no room for that in her brain now. There is only the knee-jerk sensation of Vlad blowing cool breath over them on purpose. His hands rubbing lightly over the sides of her breasts as his nose traces up and down her cleavage slowly. It’s like getting hypnotized and hit with another dose of ghost pollen all at once. Then he drags his lips over the sensitive skin of—there’s really no other word for it—her underboob. Circles back around and presses a kiss right on top of a freckle in her cleavage. “Please, please, I need you to...” He relieves her of the burden of begging. That forked tongue flickers over her nipple, moving back and forth as she keens, both hands fisted in his cape now. She writhes when he switches over to the other one, suckling it so avidly that she can feel the smile curling at his lips.

 

Needing some kind of relief, Danny plants her feet firmly on ground and rocks up in tandem with him. They move like handbells: sometimes with a candid forward motion and other times with a coy swivel. Dry humping on a bed of bioluminescent spores should not be this awesome, but holy cow, it is.

 

It’s energetic. It’s stress-free, it’s fun. She’s even cool with her boobs bouncing ridiculously as she moves. When his mouth releases the one he’s been preoccupied with, Vlad strokes a black-gloved hand down her side, seemingly just to feel her body at work. He’s eyeing her mouth with interest but she laughs at him, point-blank laughs at him and says, “Don’t even think about kissing me, blood-breath.”

 

“Says the girl who undoubtedly tastes like peanut butter,” he grumbles.

 

“I have strong evidence that suggests you _like_ peanut butter.” It was his energy bar, after all. He just makes a discontented sound and lays his hands flat on either side of her head, grinding them together with renewed energy. This time, a little bit to the left. That time, a little bit to the right. It’s fierce and unyielding, completely unlike the mist brushing against her cheek. Steam really, since it’s given off by natural pools just a few steps away.

 

She’s drenched, she realizes. Sopping from the fine mist that hangs over everything. Soaked through the seat of her jumpsuit with sweat and the self-made slick stuff still dripping out of her like she’s sprung a leak.

 

Blood, _check._ Sweat, _check._ And tears--

 

Throwing all caution to the wind, Danny tells him what she wants. It’s Christmas, after all. ”Make me cry, Daddy.”

 

Vlad stares down at her, wide-eyed even as his hips barely falter. Danny tries to explain: “We’ve gotta complete the trifecta--” Amazingly, Vlad seems to know exactly what she’s talking about because he just lowers his head to her neck again. He licks over the whole sore spot and worries it with his teeth like he wants another bite. She starts crying, literally crying, “Yes! Fuck, yes, do it—“ He does it.

 

Heat. Flashing through her like a storm-surge, pooling in her belly. Her eyes getting puffy as tears roll down from the sheer intensity of it all, sweat breaking out over her skin in a fresh wave. He only takes a few sips from her this time, his hips dropping to half-speed as he gulps her down. Almost as soon as it’s started, it’s over. His fangs leave her and he licks the punctures clean, the pair of them healing so quick that she can barely feel the prickle of them closing. Vlad thumbs away her tears, only to bring his wetted thumb up to his mouth and suck the tears off of it, groaning like it’s the best dessert he’s ever tasted. It’s a compliment, even if it’s a freaky one. But then again, he’s a pretty freaky guy—which he proves by leaning down to murmur in her ear, “My pretty crybaby. So silver and perfect. So salty, so sweet.”

 

A whine leaves her throat, something twisting in her heart when she hears him say that like he means it. His claws rake over her sides, dulled by those black gloves, and he swivels his hips just so.

 

“Like that, just like that,” she tells him and he does, in fact, keep doing it just like that. He’s got her making those sounds again: “Ah, ah, ah, _ohhh--_ ”

 

It’s pretty impressive, how he seems to be everywhere at once: palming her breast, mouthing at her neck, dick rubbing just right against her clit. Which naturally leads to her imagining doing this with two Vlads, or _three_. One to eat her out, one to kiss her, one to play with her breasts, and, hell, maybe even a fourth one to drink her blood. Danny opens her mouth to tell Vlad all about it, but her breath is coming too quick to let her get a word out. Still, just picturing it brings her closer to the edge. A white-hot something hooking deep within her belly, pulling taut once and then twice as her hips stutter with it. She summons her voice again, the pitch going high, high as a bell when she says, “ _Ooooh, Daddy!_ ”

 

He snaps his teeth at her, teeth clicking together inches from her face. And with that, she comes. Vision whiting out, spine arching hard, a wounded sound tearing out of her as her legs clench, unclench, clench, unclench. Relief. Heat flooding twice as hot between her legs and behind her eyes one last time. Then relaxing fully against the grass as Vlad keeps the throb of pleasure going between her legs with another thrust and another.

 

She’s just sensitive enough to still enjoy it, breath coming easy again and jelly-legs splayed flat as Vlad keeps moving between them. He’s breathing hard through his nose, eyes scrunched shut as it builds for him just like it had for her. Building, building, then breaking. Back bowed, forehead resting between her breasts, hips jerking unevenly as the impression of warm dampness suddenly seeps through his suit and onto hers.

 

He slumps down on top of her like he won’t be ready for the next round for another ten years. But then again, they _are_ lying on a bed of aphrodisiac. “Is this--” A yawn cuts through her words. “Is this going to happen all over again?”

 

Somehow, Vlad levers himself up onto his knees, saying, “No. No, I think it’s over.”

 

Danny twirls a finger in the air and celebrates with a, “Yaaaay.”

 

As he gets to his feet, he tells her, “Now that's the spirit.” Then he scoops her up as gently as if she is a handful of star-made snow--in a position which she patently refuses to call _bridal style_ \--and walks slowly over to the nearest hot spring. He kneels at the rocky lip and dips her down into it, laying her back against the stone edge of the pool. Danny groans happily at the feeling of hot water lapping up all around her, sweltering clean through her stained, sweaty suit and into her bones. Vlad sinks into the spectral hot spring beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulder as she crawls sleepily into his lap. They relax against each other and listen to the water burble up around them as steam swirls across their faces.

 

“This is nice,” she confesses into his sopping wet suit.

 

“Yes, it is,” he agrees.

 

“Wow,” she yawns. “We have a lot in common. We should be friends.”

 

Vlad just rubs slowly over her back like he could do it all day and answers, “Fire burn and cauldron bubble.” It sounds suspiciously like wholehearted agreement.

 

“Merry Christmas,” she tells him, idly hoping that she’ll make it back home in time for Christmas dinner.

 

“A true Saturnalia,” he murmurs, which--if she had to guess--means the exact same thing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Phandom! Here, take this as a token of my affection. Please let me know if you notice any errors. Also, littering is bad. Danny is a poor role model. You should, additionally, take the time to chew your food properly. This has been a PSA.
> 
> I love getting comments. I also love you.


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